Forever and a Day
by Incessant MoonyLicious Funtime
Summary: The ruminations of Forvian Armaldra, from the time of her change to the moment she met...him.  Prolouge is short, but the rest will be longer, I promise.  Murtagh x OC
1. Prolouge

Forever and a day. It seemed such a cliché at the time, but now I understand it infinitely. That is how long I have endured. That is how long I have suffered. Too long. Is there redemption for me, after all the wrongs I've committed? It seems…unfathomable that I could be forgiven for any of it.


	2. Chapter 1

My name is Forvian Armaldra. I have done some very horrible things in my lifetime, but I think it would be best to start from the beginning.

I was thirteen, bouncy and hyper, my entire life revolving around living in the present. I sometimes wonder if I should have looked ahead a little, but it's too late now. If I were to look in a mirror back then, I would have seen fiery green eyes, one of them hidden beneath a curtain of long, richly curled black hair. I was nearly always smiling, and quite tall for my age.

I suppose I'll begin by telling you of how I ended up in the predicament that brought me to how I am now.

It wasn't as if the day seemed any different from the previous day, or any other day, for that matter. But little did I know, it was going to be the day that determined a great number of things.

"Pay attention!" said a voice, snapping pale fingers in front of my face. I blinked, and then looked down about a foot to where my little sister stood. Well, she wasn't really my little sister. She was older than me by a year, but she was extremely short. We could have been twins, except for the height difference. That and the fact that her eyes were light blue. Her own hair was midnight black; coming down to her waist, and it was always straight.

"What?" I asked, returning to reality with a slight scowl.

She rolled her eyes. "You're supposed to be learning control, remember?"

"But I'm bored," I whined, leaning forward in my seat and placing my chin in my hands.

"You're hopeless," Krymsin muttered. "Whatever. Go take a walk or something. Maybe it will work off some of this incessant energy that you have."

I was hoping she'd say that. "Alright. I'll be back whenever."

"An hour," she said firmly.

"Whenever!" I repeated with a grin, walking away from her with a wave.

I guess that was one of the personality traits that stuck me like this in the end. I'd always been headstrong. But then again, it was also one of the traits that allowed me to resist. Thankfully. But it was also stupidity that led me to go into the forest that day.

I walked along the well-trodden path, singing lightly to myself and smiling. I've always loved forests, dark and secluded, though at the time it was mostly a hideaway from my sister.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a flicker of black. I stopped singing, and followed the flicker on a whim. It led me deeper and deeper into the forest, until I was tripping on not only my own two feet but branches and roots that were scattered abundantly across the forest floor. Not only was I quickly tired of it, but the flicker was becoming increasingly agitating, coming close enough to touch and then skipping back out of my reach when I grasped for it.

Eventually, I gave up with a huff and turned back to make my way home – when I realized that I had no idea which direction home was. The trees blocked out the sun completely; or maybe it was nighttime, I still have no idea how long I'd chased the flicker. It could have been hours or even just a few minutes.

And the moment I turned my back on the flicker, a hand clamped itself around my mouth, cutting off my immediate scream of shock – not of fear; even then, I wasn't very easily scared. Another pair of hands pulled my arms behind my back, binding them tightly with rope that bit harshly into my wrists.

A foul-smelling cloth was pressed over my face, and my mind became hazy. It was hard to concentrate on a single thought, or even make sense of what was happening. Everything blurred together, and, after an indeterminable amount of time, went black.


	3. Chapter 2

There were a great many things that could have woken me up. But in the end, it all came down to pain. It took over my body, turning my already limited vision red and tearing through me like a jagged knife.

I dimly heard myself voice screaming, but it seemed insignificant next to the amount of pain I was feeling.

I felt other…beings warring for my own consciousness, and, what scared me most at the time, my sanity. It was torture of the worst kind. My own voice was begging for merciful death – but it wouldn't come; they wouldn't give it to me.

Honestly, I couldn't tell you how long I laid there. It might have been mere moments, but to me it felt like an eternity that I wallowed in the pain wracking my body.

It faded slowly, excruciatingly so. Eventually, the pain receded completely and I was able to sit up, albeit haltingly.

The first thing I noticed was that I had no idea where I was at the time. It was like no other place I'd seen in my life, having never been to a city. That was my immediate assumption as to where I was.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized that I shouldn't have been able to think this clearly. My mind should have still been clouded, incapable of a specific thought process. My subconscious, however, must have pieced together the 'contextual clues', I suppose you could call them, when my conscious mind hadn't.

When I began to see things outside the dusty cobbled stones that seemed to fill my vision, I noticed more things about exactly what had happened to me. The first thing that caught my eye was the chalky, pale color of my skin. Then a flicker of red to either side of my head made me turn my head to the right, being the first direction I always checked. The flicker moved with my head, and I reached for it. It was then that I realized it was my hair.

But it couldn't be. I'd heard only whispers of this, only myths, wives' tales, meant only to scare the children into obedience! Then everything came together. The abduction, the pain, the beings in my mind with me, my skin, my hair…

And one word refused to leave my mind.

_Shade._

**A/N: Yeah, I know it's short, but I wanted to get another chapter out before I go back to the computer that for some reason will not post. It sucks nuggets, man. And WOAH! Who saw that coming? Well, me. But did YOU? Next post will probably be…Saturday. Maybe Sunday, but I'll try to update at least once each day. Read and Review! Love me!**


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N: I forgot to include before, from this point on the story is going to be AU, mostly as to Forvian's origins and abilities – not as a Shade but as a different breed of being before she was turned that was not in any of the Inheritance Cycle books. Also, I'm putting Murtagh in a certain place and saying that he is not under Galbatorix's control and none of the events in the series happened, for the most part. Don't hate me! I just think it will work out better this way._

I was on my feet in a moment, while in reality having to clue how I managed to move so quickly.

"What have you done to me?" I cried to the smirks of the self-satisfied monsters scattered around me, my voice hoarse from screaming earlier.

There was a pain in my head, and my vision went black again. This time, I could feel my body moving of its own accord, doing things I couldn't control while under the influence of whatever had invaded my head. It felt horrible – like I'd been cut off from most everything. I couldn't hear, couldn't see, nothing had a smell in this endless darkness, and most of all, I felt like I was choking beneath the blanket of another consciousness.

When the…other receded and I could once again breathe freely, I found myself within a circle of dead bodies – the same faces as before, a few extra among them. I presumed they were guards. The next thing I saw was my own hands. One was curled into an angry fist and the other held a stolen and bloodied sword.

The sword fell to the ground with a loud clatter as I released it, horrified at what I'd done. My fist unclenched, relaxing until my hand hung limply at my side as I surveyed the gruesome act that I – or rather, whatever had possessed me – had committed.

I took a few slow steps back, the shock of what I'd become hitting me full in the face for the first time since my transformation.

I could feel the horror on my face growing with every second, and when my back hit the wall behind me, I sunk down to the floor, my knees pulled up tightly to my chest.

This couldn't be. I wasn't a killer. At least, not until now. Even the thought of someone dying was enough to make me cry, even for just a few moments. But this…this massacre of bodies lying on the ground, all having died by my hand…it was too much to handle at the moment and I broke down in tears, my forehead resting on my knees.

I dimly heard a door open in the distance, but it seemed insignificant next to my actions. I'd rather whoever it was kill me now rather than face the fact that I'd become an entirely different person.

But apparently the unknown person did not wish to kill me at the moment, for not long after I heard the door shut behind them, there was a hesitant yet comforting hand placed on my shoulder and words of kindness were spoken in a foreign voice. I couldn't distinguish the words, but they seemed sincere. I slowly looked up into the eyes of whoever had attempted to comfort me, and the person flinched slightly.

He was decently tall, with shaggy dark brown hair coming down to just above his shoulders. His eyes were stormy gray, showing out from underneath strong features.

I could guess what he saw when he looked at me. He knew what I was immediately, most likely because there probably weren't too many other people in the world who had red hair and eyes.

Looking down again to avoid his eyes shamefully, I started when he asked me a question. "What happened?" His eyes flickered around the room, taking in the entire scene before once again settling on me.

"I-I don't really know," I said honestly. "I mean, I minute I was just scared, and then I couldn't see anything and I couldn't breathe and then I could again and they were dead and I just-" He cut me off with a light _shh _sound.

"Don't get hysterical," he said. Then slight confusion flickered across his features. "You speak as if you still retain your own soul even after the transformation."

It came as no shock to me that he knew. "What are you talking about?" I asked. "Of course I did. There's just…others inside my head with me now. And it isn't pleasant, let me tell you."

He seemed even more confused than when I'd first spoken. "But I've never heard of that happening before. Normally the old soul is kicked out so the summoned ones invade and take over the mind."

"Well, I guess they didn't do a very good job of it, then," I remarked, slowly getting to my feet. "What's your name?"

He hesitated before telling me, "Murtagh. Yours?"

"I am Forvian. Do you know where we are? Because honestly, I don't."

"Dras-Leona," Murtagh answered – I'd never heard of the place.

"Where? I've never even heard of that before," I said in confusion. Was I even in Islafea any longer?

"You aren't from Alagaesia, are you? I knew there was something off about your accent," Murtagh remarked.

I'd been thinking the same thing about his own accent, but I'd brushed it off as being irrelevant. "I've never even heard of Alagaesia until now," I informed him. "I don't know how I'm going to get back home now, though. I doubt they'd want me there anyway, the way I am now." I spoke the last part quietly, more to myself than to him.

"I'm not going to lie to you. It's doubtful," Murtagh said.

I was glad that he felt obligated to be truthful toward me. "Maybe I can find a way to fix this," I muttered quietly.

"As far as I know, there is no amount of words in the Ancient Language that can remove the dominating spirits from a host body without the user of the spell ending up killing themself," Murtagh mused darkly.

"The Ancient Language? We don't use anything like that where I come from," I said skeptically.

His eyes widened slightly. "But that is the basis of magic."

"Apparently not all magic," I said. "Because doing this-" I lit my fingers with fire, and then the flames fell to the ground as ice, shattering on the floor, "-requires no pointless chanting, and nearly no energy."

"I don't even know how to do that," Murtagh said. "I guess people are more skilled in magic where you come from."

"Maybe," I agreed as I got to my feet.

As I stood to my full height, I realized that Murtagh and I were at eye level. "You're tall," he commented.

"Maybe you're just short," I teased.

He laughed. "You may be right. But either way, do you think you are strong enough to pull the spirits out of your body?" His voice became serious again.

"Probably not. I think only my sister is strong enough to do that, and I have no clue how I'm going to get home. I guess I should have listened to her when she tried to teach me, huh?" I sighed, looking down at the floor. "But then again, she's the most powerful witch in Islafea, so I don't think I could have ever learned to be as strong as she is."

Memories of my homeland were constricting my throat with sadness – how I longed to be home again, bossy sister and all. Would I ever get home?


End file.
